The First Time Feels Like the Earth Skips a Beat

The first glimmer comes out of nowhere. I knew it would come, and yet I didn’t expect it so soon. It comes at the tail end of a Saturday lunch, as my husband and I look at the dirty dishes spread before us and know the sink is already filled with them and we have no dish washing machine.

“Petra,” Justin says from across the table, “I can’t wait til you can do dishes.”

“But when you get older,” I say into her newly washed hair, “you’ll do dishes.”

“And I will walk and talk,” Petra says illogically.

“And Fiona will do dishes.” I look at Fiona. She’s tired and stuffed up, silent with her talker in front of her. I’ve already calculated that she’ll be tall enough to reach the sink by about age 18, at which…